


the rest of his life

by Nyctolovian



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Arguing, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Disputes, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Married Life, Romantic Fluff, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Tea, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sorta??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctolovian/pseuds/Nyctolovian
Summary: Martin and Jon bicker.(Just the boys being ridiculously domestic and silly in the Scottish safehouse.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	the rest of his life

**Author's Note:**

> This idea suddenly struck me so i needed to write it. I was also reminded of [this vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtc-1WbF9PE) about Conan mispronouncing Steven Yeun's surname so I kinda got a bit of inspiration from this exchange too! Its super funny and hilariously relatable (esp since my surname is somehow also often mispronounced by ppl, including ppl of the same race as me ;-;). 
> 
> There isn't any proofreading or anything so its prob also super rough. I'm somewhat surprised how quickly I wrote this because I usually take ages to write. But well its self-indulgent stupid fun. So i hope u guys enjoy it too?

"Jonathan Sims," Martin said, expression grave as he stood before Jon, arms akimbo, "you had 4 years worth of countless opportunities, and you only choose to tell me this now."

Sitting curled up on the sofa, Jon blinked. Something in his head buzzed before clicking, the familiar sound of the Eye dropping information. "3 years and 198 days," he said automatically. "Although technically if we shouldn't count weekends, the days I was missing and—" Jon's eyes widened before looking down at his cup. "I-I'm not helping my case, am I?" He smiled sheepishly.

Martin huffed at the audacity of his boyfriend. "I did it almost  _ every single day _ ," he said, putting immense weight on the last three words. "You should have told me!"

"I, well, I didn't want to bother you with something as unimportant as a—" Jon saw Martin's look of exaggerated affront and backtracked immediately. "I just… I didn't want to be that annoying boss who had too many requests for his subordinates outside of work."

Martin huffed in barely concealed amusement. "Wait, so you thought it would be better to wait 4 years—"

Jon couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up in his chest. "Of course when you put it that way— Alright, in my defense, I never planned on telling you but seeing that this intimate relationship is going to be long-term…"

It had been a lazy Thursday in Scotland and Martin was in the kitchen, performing his daily morning tea ritual. As usual, Jon was watching him from the living room, head against the back of the sofa and humming along to the music on the radio, somehow humming perfectly in tune despite never having heard the song before. He watched as Martin poured out two cups of tea and dropped 2 spoons of sugar into one of them before carrying them over. As Jon received the pleasantly warm mug, he absently muttered, "By the way, you're making my tea wrong."

Martin had raised an eyebrow in utter confusion. "Huh? Just today?"

"No, for a couple of years, actually," Jon had replied. "I usually only take milk with my tea. I don't like sugar."

Apparently, that was not the ideal way to break this news to Martin because he flew into a frenzy of frustration and disbelief. And, at the moment, he was adamantly lecturing Jon about the importance of simply stating one's tea preference in a straightforward and prompt manner.

"The wrong tea for 4 years, Jon! And you just never corrected me!" Martin buried his face in his palms. "Why am I only being informed now that you don't like sugar in your tea?" he said, a laugh of incredulity escaping.

Jon chuckled into the sleeve of his sweater (technically, Martin's sweater). "I'm sorry?" he said into the fabric, his voice an octave higher.

Martin let out a groan akin to a mourning whale. Then, he muttered, "This is mortifying but when I had fantasies about domestic life— God, I thought I had at least pictured the tea part accurately. I thought it was rather cute how you had a sweet tooth." He peeked between his fingers with puppy eyes. 

Jon's heart squeezed at the sight. "Oh dear," he said. "Well, I do feel a bit bad now."

"Good. You ought to," he replied. With a groan, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm redoing it," he said, turning to head back into the kitchen again.

Jon gently placed a hand over Martin's and stood, laughing. "Now, there really isn't the need to."

"I can't believe we're going to have to see a marriage counselor for this," Martin mumbled. "After we just start dating."

Throwing his head back, Jon let out a bark of laughter. "Now you're just being dramatic."

Martin sent Jon a petulant pout. 

"My goodness, you're so ridiculous," he said, pulling Martin into his arms and patting his fluffy hair comfortingly. "There, there. You can add milk to my tea next time, alright?"

"Fine," he said, burying into the crook of Jon's neck. 

The two stayed in embrace. Then, they began rocking from side to side, spinning to the spot slowly in the middle of the living room. Jon sighed.

It felt good. Arguing like this. About tea. About something that wasn't life-threatening. About something juvenile and harmless. It was so ordinary, so inconsequential, so sickeningly domestic. Like a normal married couple, who needn't worry about supernatural entities and eldritch horrors.

Just a normal married couple, living together. As Jon pressed his face against Martin's chest and breathed in, he smiled and imagined. 

He imagined arguing with Martin about what detergent to buy, about whether mint chocolate tasted like toothpaste or not, about whether white or yellow lights would fit their bedroom, about what dinner to have, about what curtains to hang, about how many cats they should have… 

How surreal—the idea of spending the rest of his life with Martin.

Jon looked forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> "TMA is a tragedy." Sorry, i couldn't hear you over the sound of me stuffing my fics full of shenanigans and domesticity. I don't know. I just want the two of them to have good things I guess. Some normality. Some form of married life. Something before everything goes to hell. :"
> 
> You can find me here [on tumblr](https://nyctolovian.tumblr.com). As usual, kudos and comments greatly appreciated!!


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